


Simple Days

by orphan_account



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, launchshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Proton and Archer go on a date on the boardwalk, almost.





	

It's almost amazing how Archer and Proton can have simple days out in the city. Between Team Rocket and the volatility that comes with the occupation, it's a surprise they're granted any pleasantries at all. They must cover up damn well if the police haven't arrested them yet. 

It's a cool overcast day in Goldenrod. The coastal boardwalk is a great place for strolls, and the oceanic breeze is quite enjoyable, in Archer's humble opinion. Not too warm, not too chilly. He revels in it. Proton appears to be appreciative of the weather as well (or he doesn't mind it in the least), marching around as if he owns the place. He strides with confidence, hand locked with Archer's and dragging him wherever he wishes to go. There's so much to see, so many places to go. The boardwalk is great for that kind of thing, sightseeing. 

Archer isn't too attentive of where Proton hauls him, nor does he bother to check the signs. He believes a quick glance around the place offers him an idea of what the store specializes in. They weren't too keen on actually purchasing anything, though, as waiting lines were a pain and Proton was more partial to browsing. And thievery. Archer notices when valuables "accidentally" slip into his pockets. 

"Hey, Apollo, check this rock out," Proton says, using Archer's real name. It's risky and unwise to use their Rocket codenames in public. 

Proton flashes a view of the gemstone in hand- a rock picked out of an array of many. The gem is smooth and small, approximately the size of a grape. It matches his eyes, teal with flecks of blue and green. 

"Chrysocolla?" Archer asks. He's no genius when it comes to geology, but he prefers to believe he knows a thing or two. 

Proton glances to the label of the box he got it from. "Yeah, chrysocolla." He rolls the stone in his hand, twisting it between his fingers. "I do like it," he mumbles. A mischievous smirk creeps onto his face. 

"Buy it, then. It's only half a dollar." Archer knows he won't; that grin can only signify one thing. 

His eyes flick over their surroundings. No one's looking, perfect. The gemstone disappears up his sleeve. He checks again to confirm no one saw. No one besides Archer, that is. 

Archer rolls his eyes. "It was fifty cents, would it really have killed you to properly purchase it?" Not to be mistaken, he doesn't truly care about the rock or the money. He simply feels obligated to comment, being a witness and all.

"Fifty cents. No one's going to miss it." And he grins like his logic triumphs all. Archer lets the conversation die there. Again, not as if it mattered to him either way. 

Proton surveys the goods for a few more minutes and Archer trails behind. It's rather entertaining to watch Proton light up with the discovery of new gemstones. Funny. Archer never suspected Proton as the kind to have an affinity for rocks. Though, they are pretty, Archer will give it that. 

And then they're leaving the store with no suspicion drawn at all. Proton seems quite pleased with himself. Archer snorts. Cute. "Where to next?" he asks. 

Proton considers his options, examining the nearby shops. Nothing much of interest. Hm. "There's an ice cream parlor." Archer ideates throwing out a playful insult regarding how childish that sounds, but it never leaves his mouth. Instead he shrugs and agrees, allowing Proton to take his hand and lead him across boardwalk. 

Proton already has an order in mind once they arrive. Archer only gives the options a second of his time. He doesn't want anything-- this was Proton's idea after all. 

"Any idea of what you want?" Proton asks, peering up at him.

"I do not want any ice cream." He never did favor sweets, anyways. 

Archer doesn't think much of the decision. According to Proton, on the contrary, it's the most offensive form of blasphemy. "What? No. No, you're getting something. Who doesn't like ice cream?" A pause. "Y'know, besides lactose intolerant people. But you, sir, are not lactose intolerant." 

This leaves Archer puzzled. It wasn't a huge deal, why should it be? Then again, this is Proton and Proton loves to make matters difficult. "Do not argue with me over trivialities." Proton makes a miffed noise, like defeat without words. 

The line to the counter diminishes before Proton speaks up again. "Got any cash?" 

"Do you not have any?" Despite a Rocket admin's decent pay, Archer wouldn't put Proton above poor spending habits. He was fond of blowing money on music cd's and gambling, after all. 

He shrugs, casual. "Just don't have my wallet on me." Irresponsibility can also cover it, yes. Archer fishes his wallet from his pocket, flipping it open and retrieving a crisp ten dollar bill, passing it over to Proton. That should cover the cost; ice cream wasn't terribly expensive. Proton mutters his thanks. 

After purchasing a double-scoop mint chocolate chip cone, the pair agree to sit on one of the outside tables. The ice cream parlor is a corner store along the lane facing the ocean. Proton rests an arm on the tabletop and gazes out. The sky has since cleared up a fair amount, and the sun has begun to bid its goodbyes, painting the sky in dying oranges and pinks. Proton's eyes flicker over the rolling waves of the ocean, absentmindedly licking the dripping ice cream. 

The scenery is nice, Archer would have to agree, but that isn't where his attention resides. Instead he's focused on Proton, specifically his eyes and how they catch the dwindling rays of sunlight. Proton catches him red handed. The ends of his lips quirk up in a smirk. 

"Want some?" He tilts the cone in Archer's direction. Archer politely declines by raising a hand. "Ah, more for me, then." He resumes eating it himself. Archer settles back on studying Proton- the way the light catches his eyes and hair, the slight shadows and contour of his face, the way his mouth moves. 

"Hm? Oh yeah, I got something for you." Proton shifts, breaking Archer's gaze. 

"I thought you forgot your money."

Proton shoots him an piqued glare. "Okay, I _stole_ you something." The expression soon disappears and is replaced by something softer. He brings up the hand without the ice cream and flicks the wrist. Something rolls into his hand from sleeve; Archer is convinced it's the chrysocolla initially. But it isn't, it's much lighter in color and less smooth- a cluster of crystals. 

"It's celestine," Proton explains, offering the rock to Archer. 

Archer is genuinely touched, despite not being very vocal about it. "Funny. I did not see you take this."

Proton is smug, chuckling to himself with pride. "I'm sneakier than you think." And then he winks, like there's some deeper meaning. Which there isn't. 

Archer accepts the gift, his fingers brushing Proton's, and it is tucked into the breast pocket of his trench coat. And then Proton is finished with his dessert, careful enough to get none on his hands. Archer stands. "Well, I am assuming we are all settled here? Time to leave?" 

Proton nods in agreement. He circles the table, joining Archer at his side and subconsciously slipping his own hand into his. It's always been a habit.

To his astonishment, Archer leans down to plant a kiss to his forehead. "Thank you," he adds in. 

Proton is surprised by the gratitude and the surprise physically shows. "Yeah, well… it was nothing. Really; only roughly fifty cents." Archer laughs himself-- a light, bell-like sound. It's Proton's turn to stare, dazzled. A warm, fuzzy sensation swells in his chest. 

They depart as the sky darkens with pinpricks of stars becoming evident.


End file.
